


Have you Found What You're Looking For?

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Bigfoot - Freeform, But also, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, I cannor believe I am writing another ship for this fandom, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Smut, Trans Stern, Vaginal Sex, i must be stopped, sternclay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Barclay has multiple problems, all to do with Agent Stern.His attempts to resolve them have some...hiccups.





	1. Looking for Bigfoot

Barclay has a problem

Scratch that, he has multiple problems. 

Problem one: Agent Stern, who happens to be hunting Bigfoot.

Problem two: Stern, when not on the hunt, is oddly charming. Okay, so it basically seems to be only Barclay who sees him that way, but see him that way he does. In fact, Barclay likes the way he chatters about conspiracy theories or books or vents about work, all while perched on a stool in the kitchen late at night as Barclay preps things for tomorrow morning. Likes how precise he is, how tidy. 

Problem three: Because of how much he likes Stern, he is rapidly becoming attached to the person who could spell disaster for the lodge in general and Barclay in particular. 

And so he tries for balance, lets himself be the person Stern confides in, opens up to, without ever getting his hopes up for something more. Too, it’s not like being nice to the guy puts him at risk; for all his smarts, Stern isn’t anywhere close to finding out the truth about Bigfoot. 

It’s because of this friendship that, when Stern bursts into his room at midnight just as he’s settling in for bed, Barclay assumes he’s in trouble. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Oh yes, everything is fine. Or rather it will be fine very shortly.”

“That’s good?” To say Barclay is confused would be an understatement.

“I need to ask you a question.”

Stern locks the door at the exact same moment that Barclay realizes the agent is still in his work clothes. 

Calm. He needs to stay calm.

“How long has Mama been harboring Bigfoot?”

It’s like thousands of icy needles dig into his veins at once. No, he needs to stay calm. This isn’t the first time someone’s asked a question this dangerous of him.

“I...don’t know what you’re talking about Stern. Or where you’d even get such a weird idea. Mama’s got her hands full running the lodge, she doesn’t have time for that kind of nonsense.”

“Barclay, please don’t do this.” For a moment the cool professional demeanor slips and it’s just Stern, his late night confidant, looking at him.

“Other’n telling you not to waste your time barking up the wrong tree, I’m not doing anything.”

“And what if I told you that I had someone who, when I called, came running and gave me a great deal of information?”

“I’d say if that persons name starts with an N, you’d be better off not trusting a word of it.” He knows Stern has been poking around the Cryptonomica and makes a mental note to add another tic in the column of “problems Ned Chicane owes me a favor for causing.”

“My contact fancies himself a good liar, and in many ways he is. But you know what’s interesting about spending much of your life listening to people lie?” Stern steps away from the door.

“What?”

“You begin to find as much, if not more, value in the things they omit than in the things they say. My contact only mentioned Mama once, the lodge once, and you not at all. Which tells me those are the last places he wants me looking.”

Barclay does his best to look casual, finishes pulling out his clothes for the next day. When he turns around, Stern is right behind him. 

“I’m so close to finding out what I need to know, Barclay, so, so very close.”

“Glad you think so.” He pushes past Stern, searching for his pajamas and desperately hoping that if he acts disinterested enough Stern will leave. But Stern follows him, grips his arm.

“I just need you tell me what you know, Barclay. I swear, I’ll do my best to keep you out of this mess once you do.”

Barclay can’t stop the snort of laughter that escapes him. 

“The answer is no, Stern. I ain’t gonna help you on whatever wild goose chase this ‘contact’ has sent you on.”

Stern crosses his arms, levels him with a firm gaze. 

“If you insist on not helping me, then you’re obstructing a federal investigation.”

“That so? And what happens if I decide to kick you out of the hotel for being a difficult guest?”

“The same thing that’ll happen if you refuse to answer me. I am going to keep coming back here, keep digging around these woods and this town and this lodge until I find what I’m looking for. And if you, or your boss, or anyone else gets in my way, I will make their lives very difficult.”

Calm is no longer working, so Barclay tries angry on for size. 

“That’s enough! You don’t get to just burst in here and accuse me of-”

“I’m not accusing, I know! I know this place has secrets coming out its ears, and I will find them out.”

His back is close to the wall and he and Barclay are toe to toe as they shout at one another. Barclays' fondness for Stern loses out to his need to survive. 

“What happens if I do this?” Barclay lifts Stern by his lapels so that the FBI agent is pressed against the wall with his feet dangling off the ground. From the look on his face, he was expecting Barclay to back down or acquiesce to his demands for information, rather than pin him like a helpless butterfly.

No, not helpless, Barclay has to remember that. There’s a gun on Stern, he knows that much, and the man is neither foolish nor weak (although he stands no chance against Barclay in a fair fight).

“Then you are assaulting a federal agent _and_ interfering with government business.” Stern glares at him. It only intensifies when there’s a ripping noise from the shoulder of his jacket. 

“That so? Then tell me, _agent_ , what happens if I make sure you never leave this room?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He’s sure of himself, high on the rush of thinking he’s close to answers. Knowing only the gentle, soft-spoken side of Barclay has made him careless.

There is a kind of protectiveness that comes with finding a home and a family after being alone and outcast for so long. It’s a feeling, half love of your home and half fear of losing it, that spurs one to do whatever it takes to keep that home safe.

That’s what Barclay feels for the lodge, for Mama. Stern doesn’t know that. If he did, he’d have the good sense to be afraid.

“You have no idea what I’d dare. There are places we could put you that no one would ever find you. Or your corpse.”

“And then what? If I go missing, they’ll send in other agents to find out what happened to me. The place would be crawling with them. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Barclay arches an eyebrow.

“You sure about that. We got, how was it you put it a minute ago? Oh yeah, ‘secrets coming out our ears.’ And let me tell you, those secrets haven’t ever been found out. What happened to you would just be one more of them.”

There it is, finally, a flicker of fear. That’s all Barclay needs. If he can scare Stern into leaving, he won’t have to do anything else. He won’t have to hurt him.

“I’m a federal agent of a specialized division, not some random tourist or conspiracy theorist who no one will miss. They won’t stop until they have answers.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”

Stern hesitates a second too long.

“You aren’t, are you?” Barclay keeps his voice low, almost soothing, “You know what they think of you back there. You know half of them think you’re out of your mind and the other half think you’re obnoxious. Sure, they’d come and take a look and ask questions because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But I’m betting they wouldn’t look too hard.” 

(The words are bitter on his tongue, he knows he’s using things Stern told him confidence to hurt him, but the alternative is far worse).

Sterns’ breath catches in his throat and the fear moving behind his eyes stays put this time. Barclay lets him drop to floor but keeps his grip tight, drags Sterns wrists in front of him and traps them there with one hand. He brings the other up to press a line across Sterns throat with his thumb, it’s meaning unmistakable. Let’s the anger creep back in to his voice.

“Tell me the truth Stern, if you never left this lodge again, is there anyone, anywhere who would miss you?”

The pulse under his thumb quickens and Stern shuts his eyes, takes a breath (the shakiness of which visibly annoys him).

“No.”

Barclay smiles without humor, contemplates his next move.

“Well? Was that enough to clear your conscious, to assure you that you’d be taking nothing from the world by killing me? Or am I supposed to beg and plead now? Perhaps you’d like to insult me more before you get rid of me.” Stern snaps, and there’s hurt mingling with the fear and anger on his face now.

Barclay unholsters the gun hiding under Sterns jacket, chucks it to the other side of the room. Wraps his hand back around the shorter mans throat just as he tries to headbutt him.  
“There is no part of this that I like, Stern, and hurting you is the last thing I want to do. But I’m running out of ways to convince you that there are some things you just cannot know right now, or maybe ever. You’ve pushed your luck too far barging into my room in the middle of the night and trying to interrogate me.” He growls.

“I find it difficult to believe hurting me isn’t the main thing you want to do.” He’s twisting his wrists in Barclays grip, tries to knee him. Barclay retaliates shifting position so he can pin Sterns leg back under the weight of his own.

“It isn’t, not even close.”

“Then perhaps you can enlighten me as to what is?”

He shouldn’t meet the challenge in Sterns eyes, should focus instead on getting him to leave and never come back.

He crushes his lips against Sterns, feels teeth tugging at his lower lip before Stern deepens the kiss. Barclay draws his hand around to the back of Sterns neck, threads his fingers into his hair. Stern is still trying to free his own hands but Barclay keeps them trapped (he’s aroused, not careless).

With more force than is necessary he yanks Sterns head back, drags his mouth down the length of his neck before sinking his teeth into the skin under his collar.

“Fuck!” Stern moans and Barclay laughs, low and rumbling, against him before biting down again. 

“Do not, fucking, laugh at me. There is nothing funny about thissohhhh.” 

Barclay chuckles, half out of spite and half amused.

“Think it’s pretty fucking funny to watch you go from threatening me to a moaning mess so fast.” He bites Sterns ear, growls and feels him shudder.

“This is just another trick to try and distract me, but pretending you’re interested in me is the unkindest way to go about it.” He spits through gritted teeth.

Barclay pauses, pulls his head back to meet Sterns eyes: there’s still a lot of anger in them, but the fear is rapidly giving way to something else, something hungry and hopeful.

“Pretending? This feel pretend to you?” He grinds up against him, lets him feel the outline of his rapidly hardening cock through his jeans, using his weight to press Stern further against the wall. 

“I got news for you babe, I’ve been wanting to get you like this for months.” He keeps lazily rolling his hips, denim catching at the fabric of Sterns pants and the lower part of his shirt as he kisses his neck. The agent is ready with a retort, although the small moans that keep escaping him weaken it a bit.

“Like hell you have. That would, oh, require you to have, ah, some attachment to me which, as you’ve so kindly reminded me, is something no one in this world possesses.” There’s real bitterness and hurt in those last words, and Barclay freezes, takes his weight off of Stern. Finds him looking down, defeated. Untangles his fingers from that dark hair, strokes the back of his neck softly instead. 

“Look at me. Please.” 

Stern doesn’t move his head, but his eyes flick up to meet Barclays.

“I didn’t mean those things, I was trying to scare you. I’d miss you something fierce if you disappeared. And I know that’s a shitty apology, but it’s what I have.”

Stern tilts his head up.

“You..reciprocate my feelings?”

“Yeah, I do, but I really, really wish you’d picked a better time to admit them.”

“It was not what I had planned to do believe me.”

They stare at each other, an oddly intimate stand-off. A choice is creeping up on him, and he needs to make it before Stern forces his hand. He can try for diplomacy, for gentleness, offer Stern a chance to think things over and come back in the morning and pray that’s enough to dissuade the agent from doing something rash while everyone is asleep. Or he can try to keep him here all night.

He chooses the second option and wishes, not for the first time, that being from Sylvain had given him future seeing powers like a certain someone instead of goddamn FBI agent looking for him.

“Y’know, I was lying before, when I said the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.” He leans forward, feels Stern tense, presses a kiss to his cheek, “because when it’s the kind of hurt that makes you do this” he bites at the fabric on Sterns shoulder, catches skin underneath it and Stern moans, head thudding back against the wall, “I want to do it all night.”

To his delight, when he pulls away Stern kisses him, hands trying to hold his own rather than escape it. Barclay walks backwards, pulling Stern with him and sits down on the bed. He laughs as Stern climbs into his lap, kissing him more eagerly by the minute. 

Taking a chance, he lets Sterns hands out of his grip, and arms immediately wrap around his shoulders, one hand carding through his hair. He needs to see more of him, he’s going to die if he has to keep touching fabric instead of skin and without thinking he grabs the front of Sterns dress shirt and tears, sending several buttons scattering across the floor. 

“Hey!” Stern aims for indignant and ends up laughing instead.

“I’ll sew ‘em back on for you, promise.” He draws a figure eight with his nail across Sterns upper chest, then mirror images of the two half-moon scars and the agent moans, rests his forehead on his shoulder. 

“Please take yours off too, I’ve been dreaming about you shirtless since I saw you soaking in the hot springs.”

“I was repairing them.” Barclay undoes the buttons on his flannel, tugs it off and tosses it into a chair.

“I’ll confess I was too busy trying and failing to not stare at you to notice what you were doing.” He runs his hands across Barclays shoulders and chest, admiring him so openly that a blush creeps up his neck. Stern kisses his collarbone as he drops one hand into his lap to palm at him through his jeans and Barclay groans, stifling the less human noise that wants to follow it. 

“Tell me what you want, babe, oh, oh like that, just tell me and I’ll take good care of you.”

“I, I, I am having decision paralysis.” Stern laughs, embarrassed and giddy.

“Hmmmm, that so?” Barclay nuzzles his neck, kneads his fingers into his thighs.Mint and laundry detergent off of Sterns suit fill his nose, and under them something else circles. Something that gives him an idea. 

“Want me to suck your dick?”

“Yes! I, uh, that is, it’s not what you might be expecting-” 

Barclay dips his head down, kisses across one of the scars on Sterns chest.

“I think I got a pretty good idea, and I want to get my mouth on you so bad no matter what.”

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy it sounds when you talk like that, all baritone and soft-spoken?”

“Well now I do. Take the rest of this off and get comfy, I’ll be right back.”

Stern slides off his lap and Barclay heads into the bathroom, rummaging around in the cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. Thank fuck they’re not expired, because he’s got a feeling he’s going to need them.

He gets back into the bedroom just as Stern is adjusting the pillows behind his back, naked save for his underwear (of course the man wears boxer briefs).

“Can’t believe this is what’s hiding under all those nice clothes.” Barclay sets the condoms and lube on the bedside table, undoes his jeans and kicks them off as he crawls onto the bed. 

“What do your partners usually have under their clothing, feathers? Fur?” Stern teases.

“You’d be surprised, I saw some weird shit when I lived on the West Coast. Nothing quite like you though.” 

Stern makes a pleased noise, cranes his neck forward for a kiss that Barclay happily provides before trailing his mouth down and down, pausing here and there to leave bite marks that make Stern thrust his hips each time. 

He reaches his waistband, slips the underwear down, gingerly places the packer he finds beneath them on the table. Noses his way along Sterns inner thigh, sweat and hotel soap mingling with arousal in a way that makes his mouth water. When he bites down Stern yelps, fists one hand into his hair. 

His tongue finds skin that’s already soaked, runs across it in wide swipes and circles. Thrusts experimentally and Stern jolts so hard he nearly breaks his nose.

“Sorry!”

“I’m taking it as compliment” he growls, licking his lips,”but for the sake of my face…” He grabs both Sterns hips and pins them to the bed. Teases his tongue in and out some more, Stern murmuring praise and shouting profanity in equal measure. It’s when his lips finally close around Sterns cock that the man begins writhing, hips fruitlessly trying to thrust.

“Fuck, yes, Barclay.”

The way his name sounds on Sterns lips makes him want to retire from monster hunting so he can spend the rest of his life sucking him off. 

“I don’t w-want to come just yet, please, please come up here.”

Barclay obliges, but not before burying his teeth in Sterns thigh, just shy of breaking the skin. He barely makes it all the way back up before the other man pulls him into a frantic kiss, not stopping even as his hand flails on the bedside table and then brings two items into Barclays periphery.

“Fuck me open so I can find out what it’s like to have that exceedingly attractive cock in my ass. Um, please.” 

“Anything for my favorite guest.” Barclay grins at him, gets a condom ready as Stern adjusts himself on the bed.

“Favorite? That explains why the drinks you serve me are always cheaper that it says on the menuOHhhh.” He tightens around Barclays finger as it slides in, and the larger man kisses him soothingly, gently, until he relaxes.

“Been awhile?”

“You know how long I’ve been at the lodge, where no one, present companeeeah, ex-exluded is interested in me. Now add ten months to that.”

“Jesus.” 

“People love a man in uniform, but what, AH, what they don’t tell you is that love doesn’t extend to men who are cut-rate Agent Mulders.”

Talking seems to help him relax and so Barclay keeps him going, working a second finger in as he does.

“Some folks just don’t a good thing in a nice fitting suit when they see it. And if you’re a cut-rate agent, then I’m 5’2.”

Stern laughs at that, the kind of belly laugh that Barclay loves drawing out of him.

“You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?”

“I work in food service! Gotta get those tips somehow.”

Another laugh, this time Stern buries his face against Barclays chest in a way that makes the heart inside of it tighten with affection. When he gazes up at him, the effect only becomes more severe.

“I believe I’m ready.”

“You sure? That wasn’t much-”

“I know. I want it to be a bit..rough. If, if that’s something you’re willing to do.”

A small part of himself that stays latent all times except certain light night sessions with his hand wants to start pounding him into the mattress then and there. The rest of him prevails.

“You got it, babe, long as you promise you’ll tell me if it gets to be the wrong kind of rough.”

Stern nods, settles onto his back and watches intently as Barclay gets a condom on and slicks himself up. 

“Fuuuuck.” Sterns head flops back onto the pillow, hands resting on Barclays hips as he thrusts shallowly in and out. 

“Much as I appreciate your kind, gentle nature, I did ask for AHFUCK, FUCK, nevermind, ohmygod.”

Barclay rumbles out another laugh that morphs into a growl as he sinks the rest of the way in. 

“You feel so fucking good babe.” He works his hips slowly, luxuriating in the way Stern feels around him, imagining a dozen ways this could go. He’s fond of the one where he spends the whole night balls-deep in him, drawing those obscene, needy noises out of him. But he’s equally fond of the one where he gets out the remainder of his pent up aggression from earlier, and since that’s what Stern is angling for, that’s what he’ll do.

“You’re taking me so well.” He nips at Sterns ear, gives another hard, slow thrust, “but let’s see how you hold up.”

With that he pulls most of the way out before snapping his hips and pushing all the way back in, one hand in Sterns hair and the other leaving bruises on his hip. Stern makes a noise like he’s been punched, finds Barclays lips with his as the larger man sets a steady, punishing pace. 

“That’s it, take it, oh fuck, look at you, goddamn, like your ass was made for this.” 

Stern groans against his neck, holds tighter to him as he fucks him hard enough that the bed moves away from the wall.

“Almost, fuck, almost think you’re lying, you’re taking it so easily, maybe you been spreading your ass for any guy who passes through town.”

A moan, and Stern sucking a hickey on his chest makes him growl in response.

“But you haven’t, fuck, have you? You’ve been a good boy, kept it all for me.” 

That earns a moaning, whimpering sound that Stern hasn’t made before and Barclay follows a hunch. Stops moving, yanks Sterns head back to stare him down.

“I asked you a question, Stern.”

“I haven’t, haven’t done anything in years, been saving it for you.”

Barclay dives down, kisses him, swallows up the yell that comes when he starts fucking him again. 

“Right answer, good boy.” He purrs against those swollen, intoxicating lips. There it is again, that same sound.

“You like it when I call you that?”

A nod, Stern worrying his lip as if admitting it might make Barclay stop. 

Not a chance. 

“Damn good thing you don’t get much praise at work, you’d spend more time, ah fuck, bending over desks than writing on ‘em.”

“I get, nnnnha, plenty of acco-ohfuck-lades.”

“One of 'em for taking dick better than anyone I’ve ever fucked?”

On that moan Stern reaches between them, strokes himself haphazardly. Barclay shifts, sits up and back on his heels. Shoves three fingers in, his thumb rubbing circles on Sterns cock. 

“Shit! Oh, oh Barclay that’s so good, so good please don’t stop.” One hand has flown up to cover his mouth, but it’s not doing much to muffle the stream of noises coming from the agent.

“Don’t worry babe, not gonna stop until you come and I’ve had my fill of fucking you. Fuck, you should see yourself, you look so fucking hot taking it in both holes at once, you’re so good babe, so, soOHhhhfuck” as he comes the words cut off into a sound, the lovechild of a rumbling purr and a howl, that Barclay hasn’t made in years.

He doesn’t pull out, puts all his energy into fucking Stern with his hand, crooking one finger up, kissing and licking his neck and face as the man beneath him tenses and comes with a sound that Barclay wants to hear every night for the rest of his life. 

Gently, he pulls out and sits up, absent minded licking his fingers as he rubs a (he hopes) soothing circle on Sterns stomach. Then he kisses the closest part of him (his knee) and stands up. 

“Be right back.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Stern is pretty sure he’s going to die. If not from cardiac arrest brought on by the best fuck he’s had in years, than from the fact that immediately prior to said fuck he was sure Barclay was going to kill him. 

And while the sex was good, he can’t imagine he was good enough to change Barclays mind about getting rid of him, mutual affection and attraction or no. He doesn’t regret the encounter in the slightest, and as last experiences on earth go he couldn’t ask for more. 

He scans the room for his gun, can’t locate it, begs his years of training to kick in and help him figure out what to do. Barclay is one of the few people he knows who’s taller than him, and is also made out of pure muscle, so he does not like his odds in a fight between them.

All it tells him is to pull his boxer briefs back on, because dying in his underwear somehow feels more dignified than the alternative. 

“Here you go.” 

Barclay is standing at the edge of the bed beside him, holding out a water glass. 

“Thank you.” He takes it, sureness of his own demise fading slightly. Barclay places his own glass down on the table, sits on the bed and shifts behind him. Strong arms twine around his waist and a beard tickles his neck as Barclay trails kisses along his shoulder. 

“Anywhere hurt?”

“Most of me, but not solely from what we did.”

A large, firm hand works at the knot in the back of his neck and he sighs, leans back against the brick house of man behind him. The last few times he did have sex, the other person left before Stern even finished getting dressed. The attention and sweetness is a welcome change. 

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have threatened you like that, eesh, that sounds even worse out loud than in my head.”

Stern lets himself relax; Barclay sounds genuine, and that coupled with how he’s touching him finally shuts up the part of his mind screaming that he’s going to die. 

“I apologize as well. I should have handled the whole thing differently. Or at least not barged in on you like that.”

For a moment there’s only the sound of their breathing and the hotel settling around them.

“How much time would one truth buy us?” Barclay kisses the top of his head, continues working the knots in his shoulders. 

“What do you mean?”

“If I gave you one piece of information, and you swore not to tell anyone it was me who told you, how long would that satisfy you and your bosses?”

He runs a tally of his own desires, his work, his goals, and of the people at work who are only half paying attention to his search.

“Two weeks.”

A deep breath behind him. 

“Monsters are real, you’re right about that. And they’re in Kepler. There are bad ones, ones that want to hurt people. Some people around here hunt them. But there are other monsters, ones that just want to live somewhere safe and build a life.”

That’s more truth than he’s gotten in months. 

“Thank you. Wait, what did you mean by ‘us?’”

Barclay leans forward, pecks his cheek.

“I meant you and I. I want to get to know you, Stern, want to treat you right. But I can’t do that if the whole time I’m worried you’re gonna start interrogating me.”

“So your truth has just bought us a detente and...two weeks of dating?”

“If you want to.” The voice behind him gets quieter, less sure.

“I would like that, Barclay. In case it’s not obvious, I am quite attracted to you and, well, I would very much like to see more of you.” He turns so they’re face to face, takes Barclays head in his hands and kisses him, let’s the other man guide him down onto the mattress, and eventually falls asleep with his cheek resting on a fuzzy, warm chest. 

When he wakes up, Barclay is gone, but a cursory glance at the clock explains why; the man has to have started prepping breakfast hours ago. Which means Stern is getting a very late start to his day. 

On the dresser he finds a thermos of earl grey tea and fresh raspberry scone beside a note”

_Will get your jacket and shirt fixed today on my break, give them back tonight._

There’s a small heart scribbled next to words, and a blush makes its way across his face. It only reddens more when he realizes he’ll have to scurry to his room through a hotel full of people in the clothes he borrowed to sleep in. 

As he gathers his things together, he lets his mind wander back to the night before. The way Barclay smelled of kitchen cleaner and the woods, how lovely his weight felt against him, how delightful it was to run his hands through that thick, dark hair. And good lord, the man knew exactly what to say to make Stern go to pieces in bed. Not to mention he clearly loved fucking him, if the noises he made are any indication.

Noises. Wait a moment. There’d been a noise or two last night that was viscerally familiar because Stern had listened to low-quality recordings of it more times than he could count. He hadn’t paid it much mind at the time because focusing on anything other than Barclay fucking him was impossible. But he’d know those sounds anywhere. 

Those are goddamn Bigfoot vocalizations.


	2. Finding Bigfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern follows a lead.

Agent Stern has several problems.

Problem one: His search for Bigfoot has not only proved more difficult than he was anticipating, but he’s encountered more active resistance at the lodge than any other investigation site of his career.

Problem two: He’s finally had a potential breakthrough, but it implicates the person he likes best in the whole town as literally being Bigfoot.

Problem three: He’s spent the last two weeks eagerly and happily in bed with said person every night.

The truth is, if it were only sex Stern would have an easier time convincing himself that he was engaging in something shallow and transactional; that is, he has something Barclay wants and Barclay is willing to offer him information in exchange for it.

But that isn’t the case. Barclay, as he promised, has done everything in his power to treat Stern right. It’s never ostentatious, neither of them are that type, but Stern hasn’t had someone care about, or for, him this much in years. The sex certainly helps, every time Barclay fucks him as if he’s the only thing in the world he wants. Stern is one misstep away from falling head over heels for the man. He’s already let the two week mark come and go without bothering to press Barclay for another truth. Deep down, he wants Barclay to trust him enough to tell it to him unprompted.

And even if Barclay never gives him another piece of information, he doesn’t want to stop being with him. He may have to get better at hiding hickeys and love bites, though. 

Which brings him to his final problem: the biting, and the sounds, the strangely strong sense of smell. They’re not quite human and combined with the holes in Barclays past they paint a very specific picture. More and more the signs point to Barclay being the very thing Stern has devoted years to tracking. But he wants to be completely sure he’s right, unwilling to gamble his relationship with his gentle, jaw droppingly handsome cook for anything less than utter certainty.

Thus, he is sitting in the Kepler Library waiting for a librarian to find him specific newspaper archives on micro-film. He needs to know more about the lodge, and the town and how long certain things have been happening. 

As he waits, he plays a game where he tries to form a picture of a person by the books they’re holding. Cook books and picture books suggest a stay at home parent, graphic novels and bestsellers someone trying to remain relevant. A cowboy romance novel, guide to goat keeping and a stack of DVDs…

…….Is Indrid Cold. The one who everyone insists isn’t _that_ Indrid Cold, which Stern doesn’t believe for a second (Indrid Cold has no disappearances, no murders attached to him, so Stern isn’t interested in forcing the issue). Oddly, Cold himself has been fairly pleasant to Stern, although they don’t cross paths often.

It’s worth a try.

“Agent Stern.” Cold acknowledges him as soon as he steps beside him, never taking his eyes from the DVD shelves.

“Mr. Cold. Stocking up for a movie night?”

“Indeed. Duck has come down with another cold and I wanted to bring him some things to watch as he recuperates.” He considers the horror section, humming softly.

“And how are things going between you and everyone's favorite chef?”

“Is it that obvio-”

“News travels fast in a small town, even faster in a single lodge. I commend you on your choice; Barclay is quite charming. And he knows the proper amount of sugar to put in iced tea.”

“You’ve known him a long time?” He keeps it casual. 

“Yes.” Cold picks up a box set of Roger Corman DVDs, stares at them for a strangely long beat before adding them to the pile

“Did you two come to Kepler at the same time?”

“My own history with Kepler is more..complicated than his. I lived here for some time about twenty years ago, but had to move. I only came back recently. And before you ask, I didn’t spend much time exploring town twenty years back; I was, shall we say, occupied with a romantic pursuit.” His cheeks tinge with pink. 

“I see.” This is proving less helpful than he’d hoped. He’s about to excuse himself when Cold turns to face him.

“I admire your search for truth, Agent Stern. But let me offer you a piece of advice: when seeking the truth, sometimes it turns out to be very different than you imagined. If you try to apply your intended reactions to that different truth, it may end very badly. Afternoon.” He smiles wide before heading towards the check out machines. 

Great. What in Gods name is Stern supposed to do with that?

\---------------------------------------------------

While Stern is knee-deep in micro-film, Barclay is in the lodge kitchen having one of the least pleasant conversations of his life. 

“I swear, Barclay, if your thinkin' with your dick blows our cover-” Mama cuts up dinner for Thacker, gesturing with the knife in a way that offends Barclays cooking sensibilities and terrifies his sense of self-preservation.

“It won’t.”

“You sound real fuckin' sure of that for someone who doesn’t even know the first name of the guy he’s screwin'.”

“What if him knowing could help us?”

Mama snorts a laugh.

“I’m serious, if we could convince him to work with us, or at least not blow our cover, we could all stop tiptoeing around the damn place and focus on more important things. It’s no like our secrets are that safe as it is; we brought on two members of the guard who are as unsublte as it gets and a third who literally cannot lie to save his life.”

“Sure, but none of them work for the FBI and none of them are specifically looking to arrest you.”

Barclay slumps against the counter. She has him there.

Mama turns to look at him and her expression softens. She sets the knife down, towels her hands off as she walks over to him.

“I’ll be, you’re fallin' for him bad ain’t you?”

“Think it’s “fell” at this point. Haven't’ felt like this a long time. Just…I wish it weren’t what it is.”

“Could say that about a lot of things.” Mama pats his shoulder.

“Here’s what I’m thinkin; you do what you got to when it comes to keepin' him off your trail and from seein' somethin' he shouldn’t. I’m trustin' you to handle it, but you better fuckin' tell me if things go south.”

“You got it.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------

Stern is a heel. He’s the heel on the shoe of worst person in history. 

But he has a job to do.

A snore from the bed behind him makes him jump and he looks over his shoulder; Barclay is still sound asleep, flannel pajama pants threatening to slide off his hips as he turns in his sleep. Stern should climb back into bed and rest his head against that strong, fuzzy chest, get a decent nights' sleep and treat Barclay to an early morning blow job as an apology for even thinking about betraying his trust this way.

Instead, he’s hand-cuffed him in his sleep and is currently rooting through his room looking for that final piece of evidence. 

He’s made it through the dresser and the bathroom, is halfway through the closet when a groggy, deep voice reaches him.

“Babe? Everything okay” 

“Yes, just looking for a thicker shirt to sleep in. Back in a moment.”

“Mhmm, ok-” Barclay stops speaking, and there’s a clink.

“Stern, please tell me this is some weird way of telling me about a kink and not what I think it is.”

He’s a heel, he’s the worst, he has a job to do, this is his life's work.

When he turns around, Barclay is sitting up in bed taking in the situation, hurt visible in those deep brown eyes even in the darkened room.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“I believe I made a breakthrough in my investigation. But I wanted to be sure and I needed evidence.”

“So you went through my shit and _handcuffed me in my sleep_?”

“Yes.” Stern stands up straight, goes to where his jacket is hanging by the door. 

“It’s...it’s the noises you make. When we’re together. I realized I’d heard them before.”

“People make all kinds of sounds when they fuck, what in the hell makes you think mine count as evidence of something?”

“You’re quite right. But there are no humans who make a sound like this.”

He pulls a small tape recorder from his jacket pocket and presses play.

\--------------------------------------

Of course Barclay recognizes the noise that crackles out the device; it’s what humans refer to as a Bigfoot mating call. In actuality, his type of Sylph uses it to communicate a variety of romantic or sexual feelings. He’s not the only one of his kind on earth, so the odds are actually good it’s not him on that recording. 

Stern watches his face carefully, and so he keeps his expression confused.

“That recording was taken near the Klamath river, thirty years ago. Sound familiar?”

“No.”

Stern sighs, exasperated.

“Barclay, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“I’d say you’re doing a great job of that yourself.”

“I need answers. I’ve spent most of my career on this case, and I think you’re the key to it.”

Okay, now he’s pissed. 

“The last two weeks have all been a ploy haven’t they? You never really wanted anything with me, you just saw me as a prize, or an answer or some shit like that.”

“That’s not true! I, it’s, I care about you, painfully so, and I kept hoping I’d find a clue that pointed away from you, but none did. I can’t just abandon the case.”

“Why not?”

“Because more people could disappear. More could be hurt.”

“You can’t know that for sure. Maybe Bigfoot's settled down. And, for the record, I know I’m big and hairy but last time I checked it took a lot more than that to be a fucking Sasquatch.”

“You’re right.” Stern paces, hands clasped behind his back.

“Great, uncuff me.”

“I need visible proof. I’ve been operating on several possible theories, but one is that there is some way for cryptids to adopt human disguises.”

This is not good.

“I originally thought there could be alien technology involved, or perhaps magic. Regardless, they’d have to be small items, things one could wear all the time like jewelry.”

THIS IS NOT GOOD.

Stern stops, eyes widening as if the mysteries of the universe have been illuminated to him. Barclay has the sinking feeling that some of them just have. 

The agent climbs on to the bed, reaching behind the cuffed man.

“Talk yourself in enough circles to realize you were wrong?” He teases, terror hiding just beneath it.

Stern takes his wrist. Grabs his bracelet. Pulls

On the plus side, Barclay is no longer in handcuffs, as they snap apart when he transformed.

Other than that, he’s fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've switched this to three chapters, since it's getting really long. 
> 
> Also, I've decided that that this exists in the same universe as my Metamorphosis Indruck series (Indrid reads cowboy romance novels in all universes).


	3. A Different Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern learns a variety of things about himself and about Barclay.

Stern sits in front of him, frozen. Then his face lights up.

“I was right! I was right, I can’t believe it. Ha! This is incredible, this is changes everything, I’ve finally, finally found-”

Barclay stands up, crosses his arms and looks down at the human who, for the first time, seems to realize he is in a confined space with a potentially dangerous monster. 

“Oh shit.” His hand goes to his side, but there’s no weapon there. Barclay smiles; Stern hadn’t even brought one with him this time. Which means the balance is very much in his favor. 

Stern dives towards the door just as Barclay grabs him and, panicked, throws him into the closet, shutting the door and putting all his weight against it. 

“Let me out!”

“Why the fuck would I?”

“Fair point.”

There’s silence, then the wood behind his back jolts and cracks as Stern hurls himself against it. 

“Stern, that is not going to work.” Barclay settles on the floor, winces when the door hits his back again. It’s going to be a long night. 

Muttered curses come from behind him. And then, “I still can’t believe I was right.”

“Yep, you were right alright. How’d that work out for you?”

“You can’t keep me in here forever.”

“Just watch me babe. If it’s between keeping you in there and getting carted off to some government facility while your buddies round up most of my loved ones, think you know which one I’m gonna pick.”

“.....Is that what you assume I’m going to do?”

“Yes.”

“Barclay, I’m not going to just throw you in area 51 or whatever you’re imagining.”

“Yeah, sure.” He crosses his arms, rests his head against the door, searching desperately for a solution. He needs to go get Mama, figure out what to do next, he can probably lock the closet closed with some rope of something.

He just needs to get his bracelet back on so there’s zero chance of some non-Sylph bystander finding out about his Sylph form.

“By the way, I still have your bracelet.”

Motherfucker.

\----------------------------------------

Stern should be far more frightened than he is. Not that he isn’t bone-chillingly afraid of what might happen now that he knows the truth, it just keeps getting overridden by his joy at being right. And, if he’s honest, his excitement of seeing a creature who’s only ever appeared to him as grainy videos and blurry photos in the flesh. 

The bracelet is his ticket out, he knows this as soon as he says he has it and Barclay groans. 

“Okay, I’m gonna open the door so you can give it back. Don’t do anything we’ll both regret.” His voice is just a little deeper, has more of a growl, and Stern ignores the chill it sends through him with practiced denial. 

“I won’t.”

He is going to bolt as soon as that door opens. 

It creaks open and a furry hand reaches in, palm up. He grabs it and pulls, wrong-foots Barclay enough that he falls forward and flings the doors open trying to stabilize himself. He ducks under his arm, runs for the door. There’s a growl and, just as he gets past the bed, hands grip his forearms and yank him sideways. 

He hits the mattress, throws elbows, knees, punches in all directions. With the exception of a few grunts, these have no noticeable effect on the figure holding him in place. He’s going to die, courtesy of Bigfoot.

In some ways this is exactly how he assumed he’d go. 

He’s flipped onto his back, hands pinned above is head under one of Barclays own. The other presses down on his chest, just below his neck. The rest of him is trapped by the sheer weight of the creature above him.

No, not creature. It’s still Barclay, his eyes familiar, his face similar to how it is when he’s human, his fur the same color as his hair and beard. 

Barclay bares his teeth, revealing fangs. Alright, those are new, as are the claws pricking his skin. 

“Happy, Stern?” There it is again, that rumble in his voice, more pronounced in this form, that makes Stern turn to jelly.

Any time his mind wants to focus on not dying rather than swooning would be fine by him.

“You wanted answers, this is all the answers you get, agent. You’re leaving me with very few choices, and breaking my heart, so good job there.”

The pressure on his chest increases, the hand creeps towards his throat.

He hisses, forces his back to stop arching. Barclay blinks at him, as if realizing something. Shows his teeth again as he gives a knowing smile and leans down.

It tickles. And then it hurts, delicious pain flashing through him when Barclay bites his shoulder and he whimpers. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” The hand near his throat disappears, reappears between his legs to paw at him.

“You’re soaked, is this turning you on?”

The blush on his face betrays him.

“It _is_. Jesus, Stern, if you get off on near-death experiences there’s shit like skydiving you can do.”

“It’s, it’s not that. It’s you. I’m still attracted to you. Like this. Which is a singularly unnerving thing to be learning about myself under these circumstances.” Dying is becoming increasingly preferable to the embarrassment flooding his system.

“Are you about to tell me that the whole FBI thing was a ruse so you could find Bigfoot and fu-”

“No! I had no idea this was a truth I’d find. Just like I” he takes a deep breath, admitting this is one of the hardest things he’s ever done , “I never imagined I’d find someone who made me willing to turn my back on the discovery of a lifetime in order to keep him safe.”

Barclays hand comes to rest on his hip as he stares at him.

“I’m, shit, Stern, I don’t know what to say to that. You’re given me some seriously heavy stuff to think about” 

“That makes two of us.” 

“You’re also blushing like a fifteen-year-old who just saw his first Playboy.”

“I have just discovered that not only is my boyfriend a cryptid, but that I am sexually attracted to said cryptid. What reaction were you expecting?”

Another grin, this one not showing quite as much fang.

“Was expecting you to admit fucking me had been your endgame all along.”

Stern’s about to protest when it dawns on him that Barclay is teasing him. He’s never been more relieved to be given shit in his life.

“You’re ridiculous.” He kisses the arm still pinning his hands to the bed.

“Nah, think I’m right about this.” Without warning he rolls his hips, and after a moment something hard and huge rubs the front of his boxers and he whines, lifts his hips to ask for more.

“Oh yeah, I’m _definitely_ right.” 

Stern has a witty remark, he swears. It just dies on his tongue as Barclay laughs and continues rutting against him. 

“That recording was me, by the way. Want me to show you what would’ve happened if you’d been there to hear it for real?” His meaning couldn’t be clearer as he drags his tongue across his shoulder before kissing him on the jaw. 

“More than anythingAck!” The response is barely out when Barclay sits up and flips him onto his stomach. His clothes pull against him and then rip, hitting a corner of the room in a pile. 

“Holy fuck that’s hot.” He breathes out. 

“Nice to know you appreciate raw strength, babe. Because I got plenty of it.” He hauls Stern up onto his hands and knees, that deeper cousin of a purr escaping him as he runs his hands up his legs.

“Tickles.” Stern squeaks out.

“Here’ this’ll take your mind off it.” He shoves his cock in as far as it will go and Stern yelps loud enough to wake the entire town before a hand clamps down on his mouth.

“Shhh, take it easy handsome, or we’re gonna end up with concerned guests at our door. I’ll give you a sec to adjust, don’t worry.” There’s real concern and consideration in that last sentence, the kind Stern hasn’t heard from from a partner in years and that, more than the feeling of Barclay inside him, is what fuels the quiet moan he lets out against his palm.

“That’s better.” Barclay thrusts in and out with agonizing slowness, hands coming to rest near Sterns on the bed, caging the human in with his body almost protectively. 

“See, people oversimplify my vocalizations. That noise you keep mentioning can mean anything from ‘come fuck this’ to ‘I am enjoying fucking this’ to ‘we are cuddling and I love you very much.’” His voice is calm, almost detached, as if he wasn’t reducing Stern to mess underneath him.

“Are you, fuck, are you lecturing me right now?”

A kiss on the top of his head.

“Just correcting some misconceptions while I warm you up.”

“And if you, ohmygod, you, make that noise when we’re together?”

“Means you’re the best looking guy I’ve seen in years and I wanna fuck you every goddamn hour so you don’t forget you’re my mate.” He nuzzles the back of Sterns neck, sniffs at his hair.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s running the translation through horny Bigfoot brain. Plain English: you’re hot and like fucking you.”

“I seeOHohfuckfuck, Barclay, ohmyFUckinggod.” Barclay slams into him, rhythmically, grunting whenever Stern tenses around him. It’s overwhelming, pain, pleasure, pressure all lighting him up in different ways. 

“Yeah, that’s it babe, take it, _take it_.”

Sterns pretty sure he’s not making words anymore, just pleas for Barclay to keep going that come out as jumbled English and moans.

“You fit like a goddamn glove, fuck, you feel so good.” He kisses the side of Sterns face, grins against his skin when he whimpers at the praise. Bites and sucks at his neck, hard enough to bruise but without breaking his skin.

“If those show above my collarOHhhhfuckit!” A harder thrust and one hand dragging claws up his thigh cuts him off into a moan.

“You are mine, Stern, and I’m gonna mark you however I want. Show everyone what a good boy you’re being for me, make sure everyone knows that the, oh fuck yeah, the guy in the nice suit with a nicer ass belongs to me.” His teeth find the space just below his jaw, bites down, then kisses and licks at the spot before biting down again.

“Kiss me.” The request surprises him even as he speaks it, but Barclay brings one hand up to tilt Sterns head and kisses him hungrily.

“Any time, babe.” He whispers when they break away, let’s out a low growl.

“Fuck, fuck I’m close. Gonna fill, fuck, fill you up, make you feel me for days oh yeah, fuck, Stern.” There’s that same howlgrowlpurr as he comes, face buried in Sterns hair. He pulls out, panting. Stern sits, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, not sure if he can ask for what he needs. Not sure he deserves to.

There’s a thud as Barclay slides onto the floor. He pushes Sterns knees apart, drags his mouth up one thigh and down the other before hooking the smaller mans legs over his shoulders. Kisses Sterns stomach once before biting down on his right hip. Doesn’t stop biting and sucking the same spot until Sterns groan dies out into a series of whimpers.

“That’s for handcuffing me.”

He does the same on the left hip.

“That’s for going through my shit.”

He looks up, gives Stern a grin that, after two weeks, he recognizes as a sign he’s about to do something extraordinarily filthy to him.

“And this” he drags his tongue just below Sterns cock once, staring him down all the while “is for being so goddamn amazing that I’m gonna forgive you for those other two things like the lovesick fool I am.” With that he shoves Stern backward with one hand, head diving back between his legs.

“Fuuuucking hell.” Stern can’t do much besides dig his fingers into the bedsheets, the rest of the universe becoming so much background noise to the sensation of Barclays tongue, his mouth, the occasional overeager scrape of his teeth, the heat of his breath against his skin.

“Hell yeah, this is even better than usual.” He breathes, before pressing his tongue back against him, growling and purring as if Stern is the best thing he’s ever tasted and Stern finally gets his brain working enough to speak.

“It feels, oh, oh god, amazing, Barclay, you’re amazing, take such good care of me.”

The hands on his hips and ass tighten and there’s a deep moan.

Of course. How had he not noticed before?

“It’s, fuck, it’s true. You’re so good to me, treat me so well, soAH!” 

Sterns two brain cells that are still online are guessing that it’s this line of praise that leads Barclay to close his lips around his cock and suck until his toes curl and his voice cracks with want.

Barclay kisses his stomach and legs as he comes down from his orgasm, a softer version of the rumbling purr leaving him as he does. 

“Bracelet?” He asks after a moment, hands still massaging the parts of Stern he can reach.

He could still do it, still grab the bracelet laying near-forgotten on the bed, bargain with it or run off with it to reach the goal he’s been chasing for years.

He picks up the woven cord.

And hands it to Barclay.

\---------------------------  
Across town, Indrid Cold puts down his sketchbook, steps into the bedroom and nudges his boyfriend awake.

“Whazuh, uh, trouble?” 

“No, my love. I merely wish to tell you two pieces of good news. First, it appears we will not need to pack up and start a new life in New Mexico.”

“That’s...good? Was that on the table?”

“Potentially, but no more. A certain risk has just been, shall we say, neutralized.”

“And the second thing.”

Indrid grins wide, snuggles in next to Duck.

“Aubrey Little owes me twenty dollars.”

\---------------------------------------------

They’re talking about the big stuff, Barclay swears they are.

It’s just they’re taking a short break for Stern to jack him off while kissing him more intently than he’s ever seen the man do anything. 

He hadn’t meant for it to go this way, after he put his bracelet on Stern had crawled into his arms and they’d started talking about what happened, what it meant. But then Stern kept saying things about how safe and protected Barclay made him feel, how he took care of him in a way no one had in years, how he looked after him. And well, Barclay tends to respond a certain way to praise like that from guys with eyes he gets lost in and when he did Stern responded in a way that made it clear he was still incredibly attracted to human Barclay as well as Sylph Barclay.

When he comes, lips still pressed against Sterns, he knows “lovesick’ doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels. The other man carefully wipes his hand on the bedspread before wrapping it around his waist.

“Now, um, ahem, where were we?” His face is against Barclays chest, his voice soft and relaxed.

“You were apologizing for I think the twentieth time.”

“Right, uh, well, a few more times ought to do it.”

“Twenty is plenty babe, I think I get the gist of what you’re saying. Plus, I still gotta apologize twenty times for threatening you. Again. Ugh, that still sounds worse out loud.”

“Once is enough.” There’s a kiss against his left pec, followed by another.

“I cannot believe my boyfriend is Bigfoot.” He sounds more sleepy than stunned.

“Boyfriend, huh? Like the sound of that.”

“As do I.” He yawns, reaches down to messily tug the blankets up around them.

“....Are you gonna have to leave now, since you found me?”

“No. As far as my superiors are concerned, I will be here for quite some time,perhaps indefinitely, as I believe Bigfoot is tied to other mysteries. And I shall have to investigate them thoroughly” On the last word he squeezes Barclays bicep teasingly.

“You handle that, I’ll get the rest of the lodge up to speed so they stop running from you as much.”

“Appreciated.”

He can feel himself drifting off, his boyfriend is going heavy and limp in his arms. But as they fall asleep, Stern whispers one final thing in a voice that carries nothing but love and happiness.

“I can’t believe I found you, Barclay.”

He kisses him, draws him as close as he can.

“We found each other, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! 
> 
> As of now, I don't have any major plans to write more for this pairing. Save for a potential, and very *bounces eyebrows* one-shot featuring them, Indrid, and Duck.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Stern finds Bigfoot. It does not go how he thought it would.


End file.
